


Le Festin

by Control_Room



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Gentle, Lyric fic, No Angst, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 21:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Joy and Magenta get a surprise.





	Le Festin

Joy and Magenta rested against one another, talking in low tones, Magenta’s voice laced with regret and melancholy, Joy’s tired and drawling.

It was comforting, however, to the both of them.

They were both there, together, and alive.

But a short time ago, there were three sitting together, though it had been a few hours since Johan had slipped away from them, promising the two of them a “delightful surprise!”

So they sat on the floor, neither bearing enough energy to do much.

It was the singing that roused them from their stupors.

Joy lifted his head first, tilting his head to hear the wordless song. Wordless, that is, at first.

“Les rêves des amoureux sont comme le bon vin,” they could hear, so gentle and soft. Magenta sighed contentedly as memories eased into him. A chuckle slipped along the singing in the next verse. “Ils donnent de la joie ou bien du chagrin.”  
  
“Affaibli par la faim je suis malheureux,” A soft piano accompanied the voice, Johan’s voice, just in the room over. They looked at each other, both getting up to inspect, pausing outside the door. “Volant en chemin tout ce que je peux, car rien ñ'est gratuit dans la vie.”

“Johan, dearie?” Joy inquired gentle, pushing the door open for the two to view. Magenta, towering over him, merely leaned over him to see. Joy gasped, pointing. He continued in a hushed voice. “Magenta, look!”

“L'éspoir est un plât bien trop vite consommé,” Johan swept about the room, piano in the corner occupied by a fracture, other fractures assisting him in dressing a table, a few more delicately laying treats of all sorts upon it. Johan seemed not to notice them in the doorway, though some of the fractures did, smiling and waving at them before continuing their work, assisting the seven foot man. “À sauter les repas je suis habitué.”

“I didn’t know Johan knew French,” Joy whispered to Magenta. Magenta just gave a small smile, swaying in tune with the song. “Did you?”

Magenta shrugged, enough to make one of the fractures snap to them, beaming at them happily.

“Un voleur, solitaire, est triste à nourrir,” the fracture ushered them into the room, kissing each of their hands with a bow and a wink, another fracture giving them the same kingly treatment as it showed them to their chairs, even as a third did when pulling their chairs out for them. “A un jeu si amer, je n'peux réussir, car rien n'est gratuit dans….”

They looked up to see why Johan trailed off. He was looking at them with love and happiness, and he spun around the room to them, the fractures humming a melody as he continued singing, pulling them out of their chairs (much to the indignance of one of the fractures).

“La vie jamais on ne me dira,” his voice was strong and merry as he spun Joy, a quick two step to Magenta, gazing at him blissfully, “Que la course aux étoiles, ça n'est pas pour moi.”

“Laissez-moi vous émerveiller et prendre mon envol,” he pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, the fractures raising the covers of the dishes that Johan clearly made himself (possibly borrowing from Gingie’s recipes, but created by him without a doubt), tarts and pies of all sorts, candy and chocolate with fruits surrounding, cheeses and breads, salads and other delightful snacks. Joy stared in wonder, and Magenta gave a laugh. Johan bristled with pride. “Nous allons enfin nous régaler.”

“La fête va enfin commencer, Et sortez les bouteilles, finis les ennuis,” Johan happily sang, clapping his hands, candles flaring up as the lights flicked off, a bright, soft, and welcoming haze. Bottles of drinks they had never seen or heard of before appeared on the table, bottles that glowed, bottles that seemed to sparkle, metallic drinks, and so many others. Magenta and Joy looked around in wonder, their gazes finally resting on Johan, who seemed to be illuminated by a light within himself. “Je dresse la table de ma nouvelle vie.”

“Je suis heureux à l'idée de ce nouveau destin,” he hummed as the fractures reseated them, vanishing away after into Johan with a bow. Joy licked his lips at the sight of a blueberry tart. Magenta could not tear his eyes off of the man who prepared it all for them. “Une vie à me cacher, et puis libre enfin.”

“Le festin est sur mon chemin,” Johan seemed as though he wanted to cry, his smile as wide as it could be, beaming at his loves, his hand going over his side of the circular table to take each of their hands. “Une vie à me cacher et puis libre enfin.”

“Le festin est sur mon chemin,” he repeated, his voice trailing off. He blushed, looking away, pulling back his hands slowly. “Well? Did… uh… surprise?”

“Yes!” Joy announced, grinning widely. “Yes, this is wonderful.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Johan deflated with relief. Magenta’s hand wandered back onto his. Johan’s fingers interlaced with his, and he stirred, speaking slowly and sheepishly. “I know that you don’t like eating much, neither do I, so I picked out for you some chocolate.”

“Thank you, Jo,” he said softly. Johan’s eyes met his, and he smiled gently. “I think… I think I’ll help myself to some of the other things you made, too. What do you say, Joy…? Joy?”

“Hm?” the other frenchman intelligently replied, blueberry on his lips. Johan let out a soft laugh, and Magenta managed to smile slightly. “Wha’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Johan softly remarked. “You answered already.”

A comfortable calm fell on them as they ate quietly under the candlelight, and Johan hesitated a moment before speaking again.

“I love you, both of you, so very much, and I’m so… so elated that I have the privilege to be here with you both.”

“We love you, too, Johan” Joy hummed, smiling. “Isn’t that right, dear Maggie?”

“Yes,” Magenta whispered. “We do.”


End file.
